


Suffer Me As I Suffer You

by bluelionsordie



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Coda, Confessions, Felix being an asshole while trying to not be an asshole, First Time, M/M, Rimming, Sylvain smiling through the feels, Sylvix BigBang 2020, adhering to canon as much as possible, as above references to graphic injury with depiction of blood, but hey they also talk like adults for once, collaboration with the amazing @277yen uwu, first half of dialogue between Felix and sylvain is taken from the game, isn't that amazing, mentioned Lambert/Rodrigue and possibly Glenn/Dimitri, post-skip spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:34:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26048101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluelionsordie/pseuds/bluelionsordie
Summary: Felix reached Sylvain’s door but suddenly couldn’t move as the memory of the sound Sylvain’s flesh had made when being torn with metal barraged his senses. A memory he would never forget, a sight that would never leave him; Sylvain with his chest split open, bones cracking under the weight of an axe, pain in his eyes and his voice with an impossible smile on lips that torrented blood. Felix could still smell the iron and the sweat as Sylvain had collapsed in Felix’s arms, the world dissolving away into a mess of screams and violence that Felix couldn’t see past the man held to his chest. Sylvain hadn’t been able to talk— he had only been able to smile as he’d bled out.Now Felix stood outside Sylvain’s door, just as useless as he’d been back on the dirt soaked with Sylvain’s blood.- - -CODA for the Sylvain and Felix A+ rank scene with a dose of naughty because that's what these boys deserve.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 3
Kudos: 174
Collections: Sylvix Big Bang





	Suffer Me As I Suffer You

**Author's Note:**

> I got to work with the FANTASTIC @277yen for the Sylvix Big Bang and oh my gosh, y'all, they're lovely, so lovely, go love them.
> 
> I'm gonna be updating this later tonight with the AMAZING art 277yen made for this because rn there's formatting issues that cannot be resolved and I'm sorry ;u; I'll also link 277yen's work when they post it as well!!!!!
> 
> thank you so much for reading and thank you @277yen for listening to my terribly inappropriate ramblings about these two fools uwu
> 
> also fair warning **there is pornographic imaging so be careful where you read this**

Felix couldn’t breathe.

“Oh, Sylvain?” Professor Byleth had repeated the name like it was foreign to them. “He’s in his room. Professor Manuela wanted him to be more comfortable for the end of it.” The professor was telling Felix this one awful thing like it was ordinary, like Felix wasn’t forgetting how to breathe as the panic set in. As Felix’s mind raced and twisted with horror, the professor’s face was an expressionless mask, something Felix hadn’t seen since the ball all those years ago. How could they be so empty? How could they not care?

Sylvain was dying.

Felix couldn’t breathe. He was racing down the steps, through the courtyard, up the stairs and down the hall, retracing his steps to a room he hadn’t seen in ages, unable to recognize how everything was rubble. Everything was a blur of panic, his own fear of what he was about to lose like poison on his tongue. Regret poured through every vein in his body, his thoughts tearing him down for never being brave enough to admit this one simple truth to the one person he knew would never turn him away. Felix was a fool, a god damn useless fool, a fool who couldn’t protect his friends, let alone someone who was precious and irreplaceable as Sylvain.

It had all happened so fast— the screams of the bandits being slaughtered by the boar that wielded a scythe as the Death Knight had before, cutting through men like wind through water. They had all arrived to the bloody scene in bits and pieces, Ashe and Mercedes and Annette screaming for them to help, Felix not even hesitating to throw himself into the fray with Sylvain and Ingrid at his side. They’d just been cleaning up, in the end, taking out the stragglers that the boar hadn’t deemed worthy of his wrath. It should have been easy, really, Felix had been doing nothing but killing bandits and cleaning up after the boar for nearly two years since they’d first seen evidence of the bastard actually being alive. He’d been so used to war that Felix had let his guard down, he’d so stupidly let his guard down, and now Sylvain—

Oh goddess, Sylvain.

The blood—

Felix reached Sylvain’s door but suddenly couldn’t move as the memory of the sound Sylvain’s flesh had made when being torn with metal barraged his senses. A memory he would never forget, a sight that would never leave him; Sylvain with his chest split open, bones cracking under the weight of an axe, pain in his eyes and his voice with an impossible smile on lips that torrented blood. Felix could still smell the iron and the sweat as Sylvain had collapsed in Felix’s arms, the world dissolving away into a mess of screams and violence that Felix couldn’t see past the man held to his chest. Sylvain hadn’t been able to talk— he had only been able to smile as he’d bled out. 

Then hands had pushed Felix away, voices yelling things at him that he couldn’t understand. Sylvain had been whisked away atop someone’s Wyvern— Ashe’s? It had to have been— and Felix was left alone on the battlefield, staring up at the boar, who had only stared back with cold, judgmental eyes, angry with Felix for letting Sylvain fall. 

Anger that was, for once, completely justified.

Now Felix stood outside Sylvain’s door, just as useless as he’d been back on the dirt soaked with Sylvain’s blood. He was still covered in it— he still _reeked_ of it. 

How could he not have seen it in time? The axe had been thrown from afar, Felix would have been able to step out of its way in his sleep if he’d only been good enough. He had no excuse, no measure of defense when it came to his lack of self awareness. He’d been watching the boar, watching the beast massacre, entranced by the fury of it all, and yet—

It was still his fault. It was Felix’s fault. And now Sylvain was being kept comfortable in his room for the—

For the end of it.

Felix’s hands were shaking. His entire body was shaking. And as he remembered the look of disappointment Dimitri had given him, Felix was furious.

“Sylvain!” he shouted to the door. “Open the door!” He didn’t even know if Sylvain would answer—

“Felix.”

The voice Felix knew by heart rasped his name from the other side of the wood. It sounded close, far too close to be coming from the bed. Felix’s heart leaped into his throat.

“Felix,” Sylvain rasped again, sounding dead already. “I’m…” A cough, weak and wet. Felix reached for the door, his nails scraping down the wood through his gloves. He felt out of his mind. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

Fury laced through Felix again, white hot and suddenly rational. “You irresponsible fool!” he spat, pressing into the door with a flat palm, ready to throw it open, Sylvain’s permission be damned. “Protecting me like that— you’re so weak, and yet you always…” He trailed off, realizing some horrible truth that made his stomach churn. “You always…”

Sylvain was weak. But Sylvain was brave enough to die for Felix, and that made his spirit far stronger than Felix could ever be. And instead of being jealous— instead of intending to rise to the challenge and prove he was stronger than Sylvain— Felix only wished Sylvain would be as weak as Felix knew he was with combat in his spirit as well, if only so Sylvain wouldn’t be stupidly brave enough to throw away his life for Felix’s own safety. 

“It doesn’t matter.” Sylvain’s words were a lie because it _mattered_ , it mattered so fucking much that Felix couldn’t stand it. “It doesn’t matter as long as you’re safe. You can go on living while I…”

“Stop kidding around!” Felix couldn’t take it anymore. “You’re not going to die.” He grit his teeth and curled his hand into a fist. “I won’t let you.” Felix pulled the handle, determined to fight this, to help Sylvain _fight_ this. Fuck expiring peacefully in his room— if Felix was going to be the world’s best swordsman by the end of this war, he would need someone at his side to testify to the fact. 

And that was going be Sylvain, no matter what. 

Felix pushed open the door and stopped in his tracks when he saw Sylvain standing in front of him, dressed in his armor, skin absent of blood, wearing his usual infuriating grin. Sylvain threaded his fingers behind his head and chuckled softly. “I won’t die on you,” he said, eyes soft with some sort of fondness while Felix stumbled over his anger that was bleeding into relief and _more anger_. “You think something like this could kill me? No way. A little magic to take care of the wound, some bed rest, then I’m good to go out and do it all over again.”

Felix flinched. “Sylvain!”

“Oh, come on,” Sylvain drawled, dropping his hands and losing his jovial attitude in the face of Felix’s rage. “That was funny.” He paused, hurt flashing in his eyes before adding, “It’s not like you to be so concerned.”

Felix sneered. “You really are a fool. The biggest in all of Fódlan.” He looked away, feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable now that he’d shown his cards to a liar. “I thought something was off. There was no way you’d die from such a small cut.” A cut— a cut that expansed Sylvain’s entire chest, a cut that had exposed his weakly beating heart, a cut that could have taken Felix’s only— “You’re so— so reckless and inattentive. I-I thought this might be divine punishment.”

“Hey!” Sylvain winced. “That’s not nice! You should be thanking me.”

Goddess— the fool was right. Despite everything, Felix had been the one to let his guard down in the first place. Sylvain hadn’t had to get between Felix and the blade. The fact of the matter was that Sylvain wore far more armor than Felix— while the axe had cut through the metal and left a critical wound, it would have cleaved Felix in two. Despite Felix’s training and his impalpable ego, Felix’s one weakness was physical defense. His father had always told him that being fast on his feet would never replace a set of armor— one day, Felix wouldn’t be able to outrun death any longer. The only thing that had saved Felix today was Sylvain offering himself as the armor Felix foolishly denied.

And Felix was still feeling that pain in his chest from thinking Sylvain would be dead nightfall. Damn the professor— they’d probably known all along that Sylvain would be fine and had chosen their words carefully. Felix sighed and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, now uncomfortable with the dilemma in front of him. Backtrack and pretend he didn’t care? Or display his heart for once in the hope of manipulating Sylvain and ensuring he never pulled this kind of stunt ever again?

“I am grateful,” he finally confessed, not meeting Sylvain’s eyes. “You’ve been doing this ever since we were children. Constantly fooling around, but then showing up and helping when we really need you.” If only Felix could say the same— the well and the mountainside— how many times had Sylvain been in trouble and prayed for help that would never come? Sylvain was a better friend than Felix could ever hope to be and it stung. “I’ll admit,” Felix went on. “Seeing that smile on your face—” Knowing Sylvain was going to survive “— I almost want to hug you. Almost.”

Sylvain’s eyes lit up in something like shock. “A hug? Did you get hit on the head?” Felix sneered but Sylvain wasn’t done. “Come on. Tell me you want to hug me again. I liked it.” 

Was Felix crazy or was he hearing desperation in Sylvain’s voice? His first instinct was to call such desperation pathetic, but even Felix could tell he was being cruel to his friend. “Hmph.” Felix tsked, turning away. “I won’t be repeating it, you half-wit. You’re obviously fine, so I’ll leave now.”

“Felix.”

Sylvain’s voice was suddenly low, gentle and intimate like a secret was about to be shared. Felix stopped dead in his tracks, his heart thudding in his chest, an alarming change that he wished he didn’t understand. He followed orders, swallowed hard and waited, submitting to the unspoken request.

“You know how we grew up together?”

As if Felix could ever forget what had shaped him and made him who he was. “Obviously.”

“Do you remember the promise we made when we were kids?” Sylvain sounded like he was smiling and Felix could just imagine it, a gentle pull at the corners of his lips, something like love even if Felix was scared to consider the very possibility. Did Sylvain love him? Probably. But did he love Felix as Felix loved him? “Do you remember? Sticking together until we die together?”

A promise more intimate than wedding vows.

Felix shuddered and breathed, “I remember.”

Sylvain hummed soft approval. “Well I’m not really trying to get myself killed before you. You know that, right?”

Did Felix know that? Or did he just hope Sylvain was selfish enough to put his life above others to make good on a promise between two foolish young boys who thought the worst that could happen to them would be as mundane as dying in an horse riding accident? Still— “I know.” Felix’s voice wavered as he said this, and he hated it, so he cleared his voice and tried again. “I know. But I’m tired of these close calls.” He was showing his hand again, letting Sylvain see the tiniest parts of himself that Felix wished he could cut away for the sake of saving face. “You have to stop fooling around. Take your training more seriously. You can die whenever you please, but I’m not going down with you.”

There was another soft chuckle behind Felix and his heart leaped treacherously at the sound. “Okay, I get it. Once I’ve healed, I’ll get my act together.”

Did he—

Did he mean that? Did he understand what Felix was asking? It was more than just training like he meant it, but letting go of his past follies as well. No more going out late at night, no more gallivanting with knights and soldiers, no more women, _no more women_. Did Sylvain understand what Felix was asking or did he just say these things so Felix would stop bothering him and policing him as Dimitri and Ingrid and others did?

Sylvain was a fool. Felix was sure he didn’t know. “Hmph. Then I hope you have a speedy recovery.” 

And that would be the end of it. He was facing the door. He’d said his piece. Sylvain would either change his ways or remain the same and Felix would just be here, as himself, alone or not but no better off. For all of his resolve, Felix realized he’d only had the courage to tell Sylvain his one unutterable truth so long as he knew Sylvain would be dead by the end of the day. Felix was so ashamed of himself that he couldn’t risk his secret in the mind of another for more than twenty four hours. Or was it because Felix was afraid? Or was it because—

… Because he was no better than Dimitri? Even though the boar was a monster, Dimitri had something to fight for, revenge and ghosts screaming in his ear, spurring forth the fall of his blade. Meanwhile Felix was asking the professor for advice on what to do once he lost bodies to fall beneath his blade. Dimitri killed for his cause— Felix killed for what? The growth of his skill? The sport of it? He wasn’t in this war to defend any ideals, any land, or any—

Well— Felix _was_ fighting for something. But it was a something that he kept buried in his chest, hidden away, only brought to light in the face of death, whether it be his own or the person he was fighting for. And didn’t that make Felix more of a coward than anyone he’d ever known? The ghosts Dimitri claimed to be plagued by— those who had died with regret. Would Felix join the ranks of Dimitri’s haunts or would Felix actually take a stand and believe in something for the first time in a long time?

Would Felix continue to hide and feign contentment or would he actually be braver than Sylvain and best the man in every way?

“Felix?”

Sylvain’s voice dragged Felix from his inner most thoughts and grounded him as he’d always done. “You okay?”

Felix stared at the door in front of him— the door he’d meant to escape through— and decided he was going to kick Sylvain’s ass outside of the battlefield too. “What am I to you?”

There was audible hesitation. “… A friend?”

Felix turned around, raising his chin, damning Sylvain for gaining so many inches on Sylvain. “Is that all?” he asked cooly, challengingly. “You’d really die for someone that was a mere friend? So would you die for Ashe? Dedue? Even Linhardt, who only left the Empire to come to us for selfish reasons? Would you die for Ingrid? Would you die for the professor?”

Sylvain stared at him, that shock back, but with an added layer beneath, something almost like trepidation. “I… I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

“You say I’m your friend,” Felix replied slowly. “That you would die for me or with me— whichever comes first. Countless people have told you to get your act together and you always lie and say you will, waiting for the next person to catch you in the act so you can lie again. When I ask you to take your training seriously, are you lying even now? Do you even know what I ask of you?”

Sylvain visibly swallowed, eyes darting about the room once like he was the one looking for an escape now. “I mean— It means I’m going to fight more. Fight harder. I’m going to…”

Felix waited for him to continue. “You’re going to what, Sylvain?” he prompted firmly. 

Sylvain met his eyes again, but the match of their gaze was fleeting. It was like Sylvain was scared of making eye contact for too long. He was scared of risking Felix seeing something he wasn’t supposed to. “… I’m going to fight to be better,” he finally said. “Is that what you want to hear?”

A good answer, if Felix was being honest. Sylvain had a bad habit of forgetting that they were training for a war, not a competition that Sylvain was all too willing to lose. But that wasn’t it. Felix could see more in those golden eyes and he was finally seeking it out, knowing there was more for him in store. There was more for them both.

There had to be, right? They couldn’t have been born into this terrible world just to be miserable and die.

“Do you understand the depth of my request?” Felix asked, stepping away from the door and further into the room. “I’m not asking you to train a little harder. I’m not asking you to hold your lance a little tighter. I’m _not asking you to become a better knight_.”

“You’re asking me to fight to live,” Sylvain finished shakily.

“I’m asking you to fight to live,” Felix echoed, then added, “ _For me_.”

Sylvain flinched. Suddenly, they couldn’t tear their gazes apart. Sylvain swallowed again, and Felix watched the bob of his throat, something Sylvain didn’t miss. Felix was now only a few feet away from Sylvain, having taken light steps through the room to stand closer. The room itself was stuffy and hot in a way it hadn’t been since the summers of their schooling. There was a tremble in Sylvain’s hands. Felix had the urge to reach out and take those hands in his own to stop the shakes. “Felix,” Sylvain breathed, his words hoarse like they’d been when he’d been feigning death. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You can’t.”

“What makes you say that?” Felix challenged smoothly. He saw that tremble span up from Sylvain’s hands to his body, a full shudder that delighted some twisted part of Felix to see. This was something Felix could handle— maybe he wasn’t brave enough to confess outright, but he always enjoyed besting someone else.

“You can’t be serious,” Sylvain said. “You’ve never even kissed a girl.”

Felix snorted. “Why do you think that is?”

“Because you’ve no interest. You’ve never shown any interest.”

“I’ve shown no interest _in girls_ ,” Felix corrected.

Sylvain paused, not even breathing. Then he laughed, high pitched and strung out. “Got something to tell me, friend?” he asked, voice thready. “You know you could’ve come out to me years ago. Goddess, if I’ve ever made you feel like I’d ever judge you or resent you for something like this—”

“I’m not interested in men either,” Felix interrupted sharply. “Cut the shit, Sylvain, you’re smarter than this.” Sylvain’s breath caught. Felix wondered if he was finally getting it. “You think I would give the boar the same ounce of my attention that I give you? You think I would eat dinner with that animal? You think I’d listen to Ashe complain endlessly about being dumped for the millionth time? That I’d let Ferdinand sit there and talk about how I need to loosen up? Do you think there is a single other living soul on this entire godforsaken continent that I would show even a fraction of the same measure of patience I give you every day?”

He paused, letting his words sink in, reveling in the dawning in Sylvain’s eyes. Strangely, Felix thought of his brother— of Glenn, the older brother who had been so disappointed in not being the Shield of the King that he’d joined the king’s knights and died acting as a shield for the prince regardless. Felix thought of Glenn, who the boar was so sure had died full of regret, regret that must be realized for him to find peace in death. Felix thought of Glenn and wondered how he’d failed to realize how similar Sylvain and his brother were. Two men who gave their lives so freely for the person they loved. Felix, distantly, wondered if Dimitri couldn’t let go of Glenn’s ghost because he’d only just realized the depth of Glenn’s love for him once it was too late.

Felix wasn’t going to become his brother— and he wasn’t going to become the boar. He solidified his stance like he was preparing to parry a blow and held his chin high, looking up into Sylvain with defiance. “You’re not like them,” he said low between them, his words filling the space between. He was close enough to watch Sylvain’s breath hitch. “You have never been like them, Sylvain. When are you going to open your eyes and seize what you’re _really_ fighting and dying for.”

Sylvain stared into him. Felix didn’t back down, didn’t even move. And when Sylvain suddenly lunged forward, taking Felix’s face in his hands and crashing their lips together like a punch, Felix didn’t falter or submit. He pushed back on his toes, meeting Sylvain, crowding against him and tangling a hand in Sylvain’s red, matted hair as their teeth clacked painfully. The kiss was impulsive and clumsy, like the first time they’d ever sparred as children with wooden swords they barely knew how to swing. Sylvain’s mouth was hot against his own, his tongue pressing inside Felix, tasting him and moaning. Felix grinned sharply against Sylvain’s mouth, meeting that press with his own, biting Sylvain’s bottom lip because he didn’t know how to be anything but aggressive. And for now, that was enough. 

“You bastard,” Sylvain gasped into him, his fingers pressing into Felix’s warm face, holding him in place as Sylvain pushed deeper inside with expert thrusts of his tongue, their noses smushed together, their chests bumping and knees knocking. “All this fucking time— _You should’ve said something!_ ”

“So should’ve you,” Felix whispered back, his eyes open, unlike Sylvain’s, watching the changes in his face as they kissed. They were so close together that Felix couldn’t ignore the minute details if he wanted, the change in Sylvain’s expression, the twist of his brow and the flutter of his lashes as he explored Felix’s wet mouth. Sylvain’s freckles hadn’t faded completely as Felix had once suspected, Sylvain’s cheekbone and the bump of his nose still dusted with inverted stars of color. Sylvain’s cheeks were flushed and splotchy, uneven red smattered across his skin as he took what he wanted from Felix without control or care. As Felix let his jaw relax, let himself open wider for Sylvain, he watched the other’s face contort with something like agony, beautiful and pained. 

And then Sylvain opened his eyes, and Felix suddenly couldn’t breathe all over again. 

One of the many things that had always infuriated Felix were the color of Sylvain’s eyes. When they’d been younger, Dimitri and Felix had stolen away into the castle library while their fathers had done fuck all on their own, as they always would. Felix and Dimitri had found themselves an old book full of old words, half of which weren’t even used anymore, and had poured over it for hours. Dimitri had read all of the words he could pronounce aloud to Felix and yet—

Yet not a single damn one of those words— or any word Felix had learned thereafter— could describe the color of Sylvain’s eyes. Was it coffee with cream? Muted gold? Brown? It couldn’t just be brown, that was too little to describe the myriad of shades that reflected in Sylvain’s iris. It wasn’t just _brown_ , there were flecks of green and stripes of gray, even a deep shade of chocolate in the early morning light. Sylvain’s eyes were so much more than just a single word, or any word at all, and Felix, to this day, was absolutely infuriated that he couldn’t find a single word out there to describe what was honestly the most beautiful color in the whole world.

Sylvain slowed the kiss, sucking gently on Felix’s tongue, brow furrowed as he pulled only an inch away to whisper, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You make stupid faces when you’re kissing,” Felix lied on instinct. Goddess above, wasn’t that just the absolute worst thing to say? But before regret could sink in— and honestly, how stupid was he, Felix didn’t have to cover up his affection anymore with insults— Sylvain smirked, wide and almost arrogant.

“Don’t worry,” he drawled. “I think you’re pretty hot too.” Before Felix could protest, Sylvain dropped his hands from Felix’s face to his shoulder and waist, twisting him around and dropping him onto the bed. Felix squawked and clumsily held onto Sylvain until his back met the solid mattress. He then glared up at Sylvain, spitting a strand of his own hair from his face.

“Flames, Sylvain, what the hell do you think you’re—!”

Sylvain kissed him again, and Felix was loath to realize Sylvain had finally found an effective way to shut him up. He couldn’t be upset for too long either with the way Sylvain’s tongue delved into him, drawing the air from his lungs and making his toes curl. Kissing Sylvain on a bed was different from kissing while standing. A bed had more promise, more connotation to it than the floor beneath their feet. It was difficult to do much else but kiss while standing from what Felix knew— a bed opened up a whole new world of possibilities. 

And Felix was suddenly very, very nervous, but he wasn’t about to let that get in the way— nor was he about to let Sylvain keep the upper hand. What Felix lacked in experience, he made up for in sheer strength of will and his desire to be better than _everyone_. So he pulled back from the kiss with a wet smack and placed a hand on Sylvain’s chest, pushing him up and keeping his chin high. “You’re gonna fuck me.”

Sylvain’s eyes nearly bugged right out of his skull and Felix wished Ignatz could have seen the expression if only to sketch it later for Felix to frame and hang on his wall for prosperity’s sake. He grinned sharply, always enjoying gaining the upper hand, and squeezed Sylvain’s bicep, enjoying the sculpted muscle he felt beneath. Five years of fighting and searching, endless days on the road, countless battles, all of which culminated into a very fit and very alluring Sylvain Jose Gautier. Sylvain hadn’t been out of shape back in their school days, but Felix also knew that the Sylvain above him now would absolutely destroy the Sylvain of the past. “I’m sorry— I thought you had experience. Did I assume wrong?”

“Goddess, Felix,” Sylvain choked out, staring down at him with those same wide eyes, his flush stretching down his neck and into the collar of his wool shirt. “You— you don’t know what you’re asking.”

“You’re right, I’m not asking,” Felix simpered. “I am _telling_ you that you’re going to fuck me.”

“No.” Sylvain shook his head and it was Felix’s turn to furrow his brow. “Felix, you don’t— this isn’t what you’re thinking. This isn’t— I’m not like you think I am.”

Now that was surprising. “What do you think I think you are?” Felix asked slowly, relaxing his hand to soothe down Sylvain’s chest, resting on the man’s hip and holding on. The body heat caged between them was almost too much, but he was going to use some of his unending Sylvain-specific patience to let him get this out. “What do you think I fail to understand?”

“I love you, Felix.”

Felix’s ears went pink. “I know that.”

Sylvain raised a challenging brow. “Do you?”

“I do,” Felix replied stubbornly. 

“You don’t— you don’t know the kind of love I’m talking about.”

And that— 

“You asshole,” Felix bristled, forgoing patience and care to swat at Sylvain’s bicep. “You think I don’t know what this is? What we are? We’ve been a part of one another’s lives for longer than I can remember! I’m not so foolish as to think this is nothing more than a release of tension, a culmination of adrenaline and fear, nothing more than a quick fuck. I know you love me, and I am telling you that _I love you_. And when I say that I love you, I mean it in the same way you do! That world-shattering, breath-stealing, self-destructive love! The kind that leaves you lying awake in bed at night, clutching at the sheets, fighting the urge to cry because you feel alone without the other person at your side. The love that leaves you staring at empty chairs and imagining that person’s presence, fabricating conversations and arguments and shared moments of silence if only to chase the blissful feeling of being in their presence.”

He sat up sharply, pushing Sylvain up with him, Sylvain leaning over Felix’s bent knees, watching Felix with a sort of quiet awe. “I know what love is,” Felix seethed, glaring sharply up at the other man. “I saw the same love I feel for you in my father for King Lambert— the same love my brother gave that boar, and the same love that has ended wars and started revolutions. I may—”

And this was where Felix had to falter, his hand clenching in the front of Sylvain’s shirt, the moment where he would show his heart and pray Sylvain didn’t tear it in two. “I know I’m not the most gentle person,” he hedged, trying to fight the way his voice began to shake. “I know I’m not the most agreeable. And I know— I know I can be cruel. Thoughtless and cruel. I know…” He looked away, cutting his eyes down to the sheets beneath them. 

“… I know I’ve changed,” he confessed. “And not always for the better. I know you miss the Felix from before, who smiled more freely and followed you around like I worshipped you. I know you miss the me that was— that had less of a burden on his shoulders. Less pain.” He swallowed hard. 

“… I miss that part of me too,” Felix whispered. “But I can’t bring him back. I can’t change the past. I can’t— I can’t revive the dead.” He felt like this throat was closing up and shame was creeping down his spine, but it was worth it, it had to be worth it, Sylvain was _always_ worth it. “All I can tell you is that the boy that followed you around and looked up to you and worshipped the ground you walk upon is still here. He just— he doesn’t let himself give in to such selfish desires. But I promise you, Sylvain, my eyes have never left you. Not once.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then a finger hooked itself beneath Felix’s chin and lifted his head, Felix shutting his eyes so he wouldn’t see the look in Sylvain’s own, but still not surprised when soft lips touched his. And this kiss— it was different too. It was reverent and kind, like therapy for the aches in Felix’s mind. Would every kiss with Sylvain be different? Or were they all the same because they all meant so much to Felix, every single time?

“I’m sorry,” Sylvain murmured against him. “I’m so sorry. I spent so long reveling in my pain and pining that I never considered how this would be for you if you felt the same.”

Felix kept his eyes shut, knowing he didn’t deserve the apology, but accepting it all the same because, for once, he didn’t want to start a fight. He just nodded and clung to Sylvain, hoping he wouldn’t be mocked for such weakness, even if it was only for a moment. Those lips left his mouth and trailed up his cheeks to his forehead, grazing along his hairline to his temple, tender with affection. Felix’s body burned. He wanted to stop being weak— he wanted to be with Sylvain.

“Fuck me and I’ll forgive you.”

Felix felt Sylvain’s body shake with something like a laugh. It felt almost painful, like Sylvain was forcing a part of himself back together just as Felix was trying to do now. For all of their time together, they weren’t meant to speak truth in the daylight. Leaving bones exposed was better done in the quiet dark. Apologetic, Felix turned his head and kissed Sylvain’s skin as well, hoping he understood. 

“Okay,” Sylvain replied softly, and that was it. He understood. Of course Sylvain understood— no one else could understand Felix like Sylvain did. “Okay,” Sylvain repeated softly before drawing back just enough to undo the snatches on the front of Felix’s coat, nimble fingers releasing him from the confines of his clothes in a matter of moments. Felix was left stunned as his chest was suddenly exposed to the gentle breeze of the room before he could realize what was happening.

“Did you just undress me without me even noticing?” Felix asked incredulously, looking up from his bare chest to the coy smirk on Sylvain’s stupid face. Felix scowled and hooked a leg around Sylvain’s waist, bringing him down and swinging atop him, wanting Sylvain to stop laughing at him. “Fiend— lecherous fiend.”

“Can you blame me?” Sylvain asked with the smirk morphing into one of his annoying pouts as he was suddenly beneath Felix. “I’ve been wanting to undress you like that for years— so what if I’ve practiced countless times in my dreams?”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“You’re going to become mine, Felix.”

The words were dark, a promise and a threat and heaven rolled into one. Felix’s eyes went wide at the heat in Sylvain’s eyes and shuddered, suddenly painfully aware of how close their bodies were. Felix’s legs were slotted between Sylvain’s knees, their thighs brushing, their chests only inches apart, their lips brushing if they leaned in only another inch. It was so intimate that Felix felt guilty for the wave of arousal that crashed over him— they were in the monastery, after all, the closest place to the goddess in all of Fódlan. Felix hoped the goddess would forgive him and Sylvain a little moment of selfishness considering how recklessly they’d fought in her name.

But still—

“You should know,” Felix began with a mite of hesitation. “I’ve done this before. The whole— the joining. Coupling.”

Sylvain arched a fine brow beneath him, elegant even when ruffled. “You mean sex?”

Felix wished he could stop blushing. “Yes.”

“Thank the goddess,” Sylvain blurted out, surprising Felix as he clutched Felix’s hips and squeezed, rubbing slow circles into Felix’s body with his thumbs. “I can tell you now I do not have the control to be gentle.”

Then Sylvain was flipping them again, grabbing Felix by the slender wrists to pin them above his head, rolling their hips together with devious intent as Felix’s mouth went slack with a quiet moan. He looked down between their bodies and shuddered at the sight of their clothed lengths pressed together, bulges in trousers sliding and pressing into heat. Felix almost thought he could feel the the pulse of Sylvain’s need. He looked up into Sylvain’s eyes that were darkening with every passing breath between them and then reached down to grab Sylvain’s cock in his pants, squeezing roughly, biting out, “Are you going to use this on me now or would you rather we suffer another half a lifetime?”

Sylvain went rigid in Felix’s grip and bit his lip. “Felix,” he gasped, bucking into Felix’s hand with barely-measured control. “Yes— yes, gods, yes, I’ll fuck you.”

Felix snorted a sardonic laugh at the curse. “Getting a little blasphemous, now are we?”

“No deity would ever accept the lust I have for you as anything but sin,” Sylvain choked out before surging forward and slamming their mouths together, hooking his arms under Felix’s knees and pushing them forward, bending Felix in half. Felix yelped and clutched to the sheets as Sylvain ground his hard cock into the curve of Felix’s ass, the heat now almost like fire as he thrust into Felix in a pale mockery of what they both wanted. Felix’s breath came short, brow twisting with pleasure as he was teased, the bed creaking beneath the grind. “Felix,” Sylvain almost growled, his voice nearly as dark as his eyes, the pupil swallowing the indefinable gold. “Show me.”

Felix pushed Sylvain away with a hand on Sylvain’s face before scrambling back and working at the buckles of his boots, suddenly more desperate than ever to be laid bare, wishing he wore something a little less complicated. But even Felix’s haste wasn’t enough and Sylvain snatched Felix’s hands away to grab him, yanking him back towards Sylvain’s lap and then tearing Felix’s trousers down his lithe waist. He turned Felix over, folding Felix’s clothes even further down, exposing Felix’s tight ass and his thighs to the cool air, squeezing the muscles tight once he was satisfied. 

“Brute,” Felix hissed even as his cock jumped for how rough Sylvain was being, kneading Felix’s ass like he wanted to leave bruises. “What are you, some kind of— a- _ah!_ ” He cut off with a cry as Sylvain’s teeth sunk into the meat of Felix’s ass, not hard enough to really hurt, but hard enough to be impossible to ignore. “Sylvain,” he choked out, arching back into the other man as Sylvain’s tongue soothed along the bite and then dipped—

Felix lurched forward up the bed, scrambling for the headboard even as Sylvain hold him fast, his tongue swiping across Felix’s entrance, a foreign and bizarre sensation. Felix’s nails dug into the wood of the bed frame and he squeaked as Sylvain dipped his tongue _inside_ , startling him. “You— you disgusting—” He couldn’t get much else out as his vision went white, Sylvain dipping inside, the whole experience exhilarating for its strangeness. He felt Sylvain moan _into_ him, and his cock throbbed against the sheets, ass arching back to try and push back onto the tongue, wanting more now that he knew it wouldn’t hurt. Sylvain’s hands massaged Felix’s thighs, digging his thumbs into muscles. Felix would definitely have Sylvain’s hands imprinted into his body by tomorrow morning. 

“Please,” Felix whimpered, eyes screwed shut. “Sylvain, please, _oh fuck!_ ” Whatever he’d been asking for, Sylvain had obviously known, a long, graceful digit slipping inside alongside the tongue that reached even deeper. Felix’s body clenched tight at the intrusion, but he didn’t pull away. A hand pulled from his thighs to soothe across the small of Felix’s back, the heel of the palm pressing into the tight muscles that trembled with the strain. The tongue thrusted while the finger stayed still, forcing Felix to take more of the slick than the stretch. He whimpered, clutching at the sheets, pressing his face into the pillow and wishing it smelled more of Sylvain and less of dust. Then the tongue curled and tugged at the rim of Felix’s hole and he sobbed dryly into the dusty pillow, thrusting back. 

“Stop, stop,” he barely got out as the throb of his cock became dangerous, the tip leaking profusely onto the bed, creating a growing wet spot. “You have to stop, I’ll—”

Sylvain took this as his cue to crook his thumb and just oh-so gently stroke along the bundle of nerves Felix barely knew himself. He keened, eyes slipping back momentarily, Sylvain taking the opportunity to press a second finger inside, drawing his tongue out and sitting back so he could focus on the act of preparing Felix for his cock. Felix could almost feel the sloppy grin Sylvain was directing at his back and buried his face in the pillow, cheeks hot with shame and pleasure. “D-don’t goad.”

“I thought you’d said you’ve had sex?” Sylvain asked, slightly breathless from eating Felix out, still stroking the small of his back as the two fingers thrusted in and out slowly enough to be torture. “You’re crying out like an untouched maiden.”

“I’ll maim you and make you the maiden,” Felix threatened even as he gasped wetly and gyrated his hips back onto Sylvain’s hand. “Oh Flames, Sylvain, what are you doing to me?”

“Making you wet and ready for me,” Sylvain murmured, pressing in a third finger and dragging across that spot again. Felix cried out, eyes slipping into the back of his head, arching his spine beautifully to try and get Sylvain to hit that spot again and _stay_. His breath came in short, stilted bursts of air, the world growing fuzzy at the edges. Then a hand snuck around his middle and suddenly Sylvain was stroking his cock. 

Immediately, it was all too much. Felix bent like a bow, his body spasming around those fingers as his hips rutted helplessly into Sylvain’s palm, cock spilling across the sheets. He barely even felt anything but the pleasure, choking on a moan as a hand went around his neck and Sylvain buried his face in Felix’s shoulder, those fingers still hammering into his body as the orgasm ravaged him. Felix came back down from the heights and gulped the air back into his lungs, flattening his chest to the bed and not caring as his pale skin was smeared with his own mess. 

“Gorgeous,” Sylvain whispered into him as he squeezed Felix’s throat just enough to be felt, kissing the line of Felix’s sharp collarbone. “Like art, Felix— I should commission a piece of you in the throes of agony like this just so I can have it with me wherever I go.”

“As if you aren’t so jealous that you would kill a man for watching me cum,” Felix slurred, still feeling the orgasm and grinding languidly into the sheets with the fingers inside him. The sun was warm on his skin and Sylvain was hard against his hip. Sylvain had taken off his shirt somewhere along the way, and Felix’s eyes were drawn to the miles of skin exposed. The sheets were wet and so were his thighs, slick with cum and Sylvain’s spit. He felt disgusting and drawn out and perfect and Sylvain hadn’t even fucked him yet. Felix groaned softly into the pillow, a thrill running through him as he realized what was coming. He clenched involuntarily around the fingers and felt Sylvain shoulder. “Get inside me,” Felix murmured, his whole body lax. “Please— want you.”

A low groan rumbled out from Sylvain’s chest into Felix’s spine before those fingers were withdrawn from Felix’s hole, and then the world was suddenly spinning again, Sylvain flipping Felix over so he was on his back. Felix yelped but didn’t fight, his body loose and pliant like a doll for Sylvain to use. Sylvain grabbed the pillow Felix had been gasping into and stuffed it beneath Felix’s hips, propping him up. He yanked Felix’s boots and pants down and tossed them carelessly aside. Then Sylvain dragged Felix closed by his thin waist, pressing Felix’s ass to his clothed cock, Sylvain hooking one of Felix’s long legs over his shoulder and kissing Felix’s inner knee while never breaking eye contact.

Beneath him, beneath Sylvain’s touch and his body and his gaze, Felix’s breath suddenly caught in his chest, painful and severe, and he couldn’t look away. With the sun setting behind Felix, in front of Sylvain, a warm light was casted over the man’s body, painting him in an ethereal glow that made Felix think of old portraits, depictions of the saints and the goddess herself, reverent and awe-inspiring. Sylvain was as those paintings had been— reverent and awe-inspiring. From the pallor of his skin to the long reach of his limbs to the twinkle in his eyes, Sylvain was absolutely and wretchedly beautiful. Felix’s throat tightened and he swallowed hard past a lump as Sylvain kept their gazes locked and kissed Felix’s skin again, cradling Felix’s ankle to his body with the knee over his shoulder, their hips below pressed together in a promise. Felix’s breath had caught and his throat had tightened and now, even worse, his heart slipped a beat.

Then Sylvain ran a hand down Felix’s sensitive inner thigh and pressed three fingers back inside with smooth familiarity, looking down at Felix from over his cheeks and asked, breathily, “Want my cock, Felix?”

The insufferable oaf—

Felix pulled his leg away and planted his foot on Sylvain’s shoulder for leverage, twisting and bending, grinding down onto the front of Sylvain’s trousers. The celestial wonder fell away from Sylvain in a moment as his expression contorted with pleasure, a smile tugging at his lips at how Felix was and always would be. “That answer your question, you arrogant clod?” Felix demanded. 

“I got it, I got it,” Sylvain breathed, grinning down at him as he reached below to undo the snatch of his trousers, fishing out his cock, and that—

Felix had to look away, color rising to his cheeks at what he couldn’t look at for too long. Sylvain’s cock was always, weirdly, fascinating to Felix. He was longer and thicker, but he wasn’t anything insane like Dedue or Dimitri or even Raphael. There wasn’t exactly a lot of privacy in the bathhouses at the monastery, and when traveling and fighting a war, the privacy was even worse, but it wasn’t like Felix had seen Sylvain’s cock in this kind of situation either, hard and dripping. Even from his glance, Felix had seen enough.

The curve of the shaft, the head that was almost purple at the tip for how much Sylvain had been restraining and even teasing himself, the red hairs at the base that Felix knew had to be soft to the touch for how much of a stickler Sylvain was for bathing, and the vein that ran underneath, pulsing with Sylvain’s heart. A heart that could have stopped beating today if their friends hadn’t been fast enough, but that was a mental breakdown for another time. Felix bit his lip and imaged that cock inside him and wanted. He couldn’t look at it, though, so instead he was forced to lay there and watch Sylvain lick a stripe up his hand, bringing it down to that cock and making himself glisten. 

“I’d use oil, but I’m pretty sure what’s in my drawer has dried up,” Sylvain admitted as he stroked himself, lashes fluttering with the pleasure he’d been denying himself for so long. “Goddess— _fuck_. I-is that alright?”

Felix nodded numbly, enraptured by the myriad of changes that Sylvain was showing him in just the pinch of his brow and the slack of his mouth. “Do it,” he whispered, bending his spine again and shuddering at the sensation of that rod of pure heat and need sliding against the swell of his ass. “Sylvain— I need it.”

“I know,” Sylvain choked out, pinning Felix to the spot with black eyes. “I need it too.” Then he lined himself up and pressed his cock inside, driving his hips forward insistently until he was buried inside. Felix didn’t breathe through any of it, head back, mouth open and letting every embarrassing, wanton noise slip out between them, his body opening naturally for Sylvain’s cock, like it knew Sylvain was the only one he would ever need. Sylvain was like a fire inside of him and as Felix shifted, rolled his hips to adjust, he whimpered hard.

“I can feel your heart,” he confessed, laid out on the sheets, his hair undone by the passion of before, black splaying out against white like a halo of darkness. Felix whimpered again and clenched tight, squeezing his eyes shut as he realized every single throb would match the pulse he would feel in Sylvan’s veins. And so he reached out and snagged Sylvain’s wrist, pressing two fingers into the most vulnerable past, and almost sobbed as the beats met with perfect rhythm, a pulse inside and a pulse out. _“Oh fuck,”_ was all Felix could say, inarticulate as the cock-head dragged inside him with every small shift Sylvain made. “Oh _fuck_ , Sylvain!”

Sylvain suddenly leaned over Felix, pulling his wrist from Felix’s grip to plant both hands on either side of Felix's head, holding himself up. He surged downwards and stole Felix’s mouth for a searing kiss, growling, _“I’m at my limit,”_ before driving his hips into Felix hard enough to thrust him up the bed. Felix’s eyes snapped wide and he cried out, arms coming up to wrap around Sylvain’s shoulders, nails digging into scarred skin, the only way he could hold on. Sylvain lost it immediately, fucking Felix so hard that it would have hurt if it didn’t feel so fucking good that Felix could cry. When Sylvain stopped kissing him, he only pulled back far enough to press their foreheads together, his expression strained with Felix’s was the face of startled ecstasy. Sylvain was fucking him like he wanted to burn his body into Felix’s memory, and it was working.

Suddenly, Sylvain was grabbing Felix by the thighs, pushing his knees to his ears, bending Felix _in half_ , and it was like Sylvain was fucking the breath from his _bones_. Felix wasn't sure when he’d gotten hard again or when he’d started almost screaming with the pounding thrusts, but he couldn’t stop now even if he’d wanted. He writhed beneath Sylvain, barely able to lift his head and look down their bodies to where Sylvain’s cock was driving inside of him like a piston. His vision was blurry with tears of overwhelmed pleasure and his throat was raw. The sensation of Sylvain’s cock slamming inside of him, ramming into that spot, and then the torturous sensation of the head catching on the rim of his entrance before shoving back inside was undoing him. Felix was clawing down Sylvain’s back and losing his mind, babbling Sylvain’s name and other nonsense, struggling to hold on. His cock was leaking a constant stream onto his stomach. As he watched Sylvain’s cock spear him open again and again and again, he knew he wasn’t going to last. 

Then Sylvain gasped Felix’s name before sinking his teeth into Felix’s neck, and it was over. His vision went white and he lost time, the second orgasm too much for him. He went ramrod straight and spasmed around Sylvain’s cock, who cried out raggedly and came inside of him not even seconds later, still thrusting, still pumping his seed into Felix’s body with abandon. Felix had his nails in Sylvain’s skin and their chests together, their bodies heaving for air in tandem as they came down. Felix had barely even felt the pleasure of the second orgasm— all he’d felt was Sylvain. 

And Sylvain— Sylvain was somehow worse off than him. His arms gave out and he flopped uselessly atop Felix, trembling like a leaf. Felix carefully extracted his nails from Sylvain’s body and soothed his hands up and down Sylvain’s spine, unable to bring any words of affection into his vocabulary and opting to kiss Sylvain’s feverish skin instead. As Sylvain struggled to recover, Felix squirmed, and realized he loved the sensation of Sylvain’s release inside. That— was going to open a lot of new doors. Not that having sex with his best friend hadn’t already done that, but still—

It was nice to know Sylvain was never going to become boring to him. 

“Goddess above.”

Felix grinned sharply, then let the grin fall away, too tired to keep it on his face for long. He kissed Sylvain’s temple, a sweet touch of the lips, and dragged his hand through Sylvain’s sweat-matted hair. “You fuck like a horse.”

Sylvain groaned in his neck. “Is that a compliment? Can’t tell if that’s a compliment.”

“Figure it out.” 

Sylvain hummed and then lifted himself off of Felix all too soon. He sat up— cock still buried inside— and looked down at Felix again, but this time without the heat and only with something like—

Love, shit, it was love. And Felix squared his jaw and held his chin up and looked back at Sylvain with all the love he could manage, even in his emotionally-stunted ability. “It was good,” Felix murmured, hoping he was saying the right things. “Thank you. Let’s— do it again sometime?”

Sylvain blinked stupidly down at him. Then he laughed, loud and disruptive, and face planted into Felix’s chest. The laughter shook both their bodies and Felix couldn’t deny a measure of childlike joy bubbling up in his chest as well. 

They had done it. Not _it_ , Felix wasn’t referring to the sex, really, but they had done what had always been too terrifying for them to manage before. Breaking down the walls, pushing past barriers that were made both by themselves and their society and stature in the world. Damn it all, the heirs and the land and the stuffy lords with their useless, creaky bones. Sylvain was Felix’s and he’d never be anyone else’s and Felix was going to cling to his best friend and lover until the day they died— _together_.

“Let’s do it again sometime!” Sylvain mocked between peals of laughter. “Like a fucking business transaction! Come, Felix, I’ll trade you a handful of grapes for a rowdy fuck!”

Felix couldn’t hold back a bark of laughter of his own as he weakly slapped Sylvain’s shoulder in admonishment and smiled up at the ceiling, proud of himself for finally showing he was just as courageous as Sylvain.


End file.
